


Darling, Just Stay With Me

by whenshewrites



Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [47]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Anal Sex, Angst, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek Hale is Not Amused, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pining Derek, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Sharing a Bed, Stiles Stilinski Is Bad at Feelings, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Tenderness, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:08:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25125217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites
Summary: Stiles had been the one to crawl into Derek’s bed first. And it kept happening after that.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [47]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956889
Comments: 34
Kudos: 867





	Darling, Just Stay With Me

Stiles didn’t know how it started.

Okay, he did. 

Stiles had been the one to crawl into Derek’s bed first. He was pretty sure the rest of the betas were asleep and while Stiles could pass out anywhere, the couch had decided not to work out for him that night. His dreams were haunted by cold sneers, the crackle of electricity, and muffled whimpers, and he decided Derek could either suck it up or kick him out, because he was not sleeping on the couch that night.

Derek’s door was wide open when Stiles padded inside. He could see the man curled up in a lump underneath his covers, back turned toward the door. Stiles still hesitated for a moment, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt, and then the Derek-lump shifted.

“Stiles, _what.”_

“... Are you awake, dude?”

“No,” Derek said, rolling over and giving him a flat red-eyed look. “I’m asking you what the hell you’re doing in my room in my sleep. It’s another werewolf skill.”

“Oh, so the Sourwolf’s got jokes,” Stiles said, shuffling forward. Before he could lose his nerve, he launched himself onto the mattress and grabbed a few of Derek’s blankets, yanking them over himself. “Well, I don’t want to hear them. Shut up and go back to sleep because I’m tired.”

Derek had gone shock-still. As much as Stiles tried to shrug it off, his heart was still thudding against his chest. He was pretty sure he was either going to get kicked out in less than five seconds or flat out murdered. 

Or maybe both. Was both possible?

But then Derek relaxed with a small, exasperated sigh. A small smile crept onto Stiles’s face and he turned his back toward the man, blinking tiredly at the door. Derek turned away too, but didn’t make a move to shove Stiles further away. So he considered that a win.

Neither of them said another word. Neither of them made another move either. In fact, Stiles was pretty sure they both fell asleep like that.

And see, he would like to say he didn’t know how the hell it started, but that would be a lie. It started when they ended up in a bed together. So close, Stiles could hear Derek’s heartbeats from only inches away.

Things proceeded to go downhill from there.

See, Stiles would never have considered himself the kind of person to attempt a one night stand. He didn’t do things like that. Not because he considered himself a modest or respectable individual, but because he was pretty sure he was the last person anyone would ever want to have a one night stand with.

Or maybe he was the exact kind of person. A one and done. No more Stiles Stilinski to ever interrupt anyone's perfectly normal life after a single night was over.

But Derek Hale was a different story.

There was the night Stiles had crawled into his bed and acted like it wasn’t a big thing, and then it kept happening. For three months straight; Stiles kept track. And the thing was, he wasn’t always the one doing it. 

There were more nights than he could count that Derek would push up his window, creep across the room, and Stiles would wake up with a giant lump pressed at his side, the man’s back always to him. He didn’t let himself think too hard about it. Because it was just sleeping, right? There was nothing wrong with sleeping. Even werewolves needed to sleep.

And with Derek, Stiles always slept the best. Until it wasn’t sleeping anymore.

There were nights when one of them would have nightmares. Sometimes it was Stiles, more often it was Derek. Stiles would often wake up to soft whines and hands grasping uselessly at the sheets. Either it got bad and he’d shake the man awake or he would simply press closer to Derek and the man would eventually calm down.

Tonight wasn’t any different. Except then it was.

Because the louder Derek got, the harsher his movements became, and the harder Stiles’s heart began to thud against this chest. Eventually, he sat straight up and caught Derek’s hands, trying to pin them against the mattress as he called out the man’s name.

But then Stiles found himself being the one pinned down.

He went shock-still as Derek’s eyes snapped open, blazing red. The man looked at him for a long moment and Stiles knew he could hear his thudding heart. But then the red faded to a dull glow, the rise and fall of Derek’s chest started to calm down, and the man’s shoulders drooped a little. 

Slowly, his grip started to loosen.

Then Stiles shifted defiantly, nudging one knee upward. Derek froze and crooked up an eyebrow, and Stiles offered a small smirk back.

The red tinge in Derek’s eyes really shouldn’t have made his heart skip so many beats. Derek studied his face for a moment before swallowing. Stiles watched his throat bob the entire way. 

“Stiles,” the man said quietly. Stiles glanced back up.

“Yeah?”

“This isn’t a good idea.”

“Probably not,” Stiles said. But Derek still didn’t move and for a second, Stiles thought maybe he would be the one to close the space between them. But then the man just shook his head and started to pull away and Stiles nudged his knee up higher. Derek went shock-still once more.

“Stiles.”

“Sourwolf,” Stiles said, grinning. 

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against Derek’s. Carefully; giving him an out. But when Derek only whined softly and tried to kiss him back, Stiles moved his lips downward instead, tracing soft lines down the man’s neck. Derek shivered and his grip around Stiles’s wrists tightened.

_“Stiles—”_

Slowly, Stiles drew back, smirking coyly at him. “Okay. I’m taking my lips off now.”

The man’s eyes flashed red and he dove forward, catching Stiles’s mouth and pressing him down into the mattress. Stiles groaned at the back of his throat and shifted his knee up again, nudging it between Derek’s legs. Derek growled lowly. The sound sent shivers down Stiles’s spine. 

He squirmed as Derek’s teeth skated down his neck, lips eventually latching onto the skin above his collarbone and sucking a mark there. Stiles keened and shifted again, and Derek’s grip on his wrists tightened.

“Stay still, Stiles.”

The man’s tone made his stomach flip. Stiles froze and just let himself feel _,_ trying not to wiggle as Derek’s mouth left his collarbone and ghosted all the way down to the neckline of his t-shirt. Derek’s eyes snapped up then and Stiles grinned, raising a brow.

“You want that off, Sourwolf?”

“I’m two seconds away from tearing it down the middle.”

“Okay, okay!” Stiles yelped. The second Derek drew back, he tore the shirt over his head and then let himself be pressed down into the blankets again. He looked at Derek, a little challengingly, and waited with goosebumps dancing along his skin.

Except, Derek didn’t do anything. Not for a long moment, his eyes sweeping over Stiles’s bared chest. The man’s lips were slightly parted and he reached out after a few seconds, tracing gentle lines over Stiles’s skin. It took him a moment to realize the man was drawing patterns from each one of his moles. Stiles whined at the back of his throat, squirming again.

“Come on, Derek, I needed your lips back on mine like ten seconds ago!”

Derek’s eyes flashed and a smirk curled along the edges of his lips. Stiles squeaked as the man’s nails sharpened a little and he traced a finger back up to his neck, tapping at the pulse point there. “You talk too much.”

“Yeah, well, see, there are ways to fix that—”

The man cut him off with another sharp kiss and Stiles grinned into his mouth, nipping sharply at his lower lip. Derek growled and Stiles’s grin widened; until two fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his sweatpants.

Stiles arched upward then, trying to find more feeling, more touch. Derek’s first words came back to him in a flash and yeah, Stiles knew this was probably a bad idea. This was probably a terrible idea. He knew he might never be able to sleep in the same bed as Derek again and he knew their dynamic might never be the same.

But at the moment, he didn’t care. He could never care.

He’d never wanted anything more.

Stiles knew exactly how all of this started. He also knew how all of this could end. But the very first night, three months into whatever they were doing, Stiles just let himself feel. Just let Derek’s tongue move over his chest, down beneath his ribcage, let the man slip his sweatpants down the curve of his ass. 

Stiles knew how this started. He knew it was probably the worst idea he’d ever had. But he really didn’t care. He didn’t care, he told himself. Or maybe he cared too much.

Those thoughts didn’t last long. Not when there was one slick finger slipping into him, not when there were three fingers slipping out. Not when there was something much larger pushing in, and Stiles keened at the back of his throat, blunt nails clawing at Derek’s back.

Stiles just wanted to let himself want. He just wanted to let Derek want. Because yeah, Stiles had been the one to crawl into Derek’s bed first.

But it just kept happening after that.

Flash forward four months later and Stiles didn’t know what to call it anymore. 

There was still sleeping. There was also not sleeping. They didn’t talk about it anywhere else and if anyone would’ve asked, Stiles was pretty sure they both would’ve pretended nothing was happening.

When Derek climbed through his window that night, they both knew his dad was on a night-shift. Stiles rolled over and tucked one arm underneath his pillow, watching as the man stripped off his shirt and jeans.

“Derek,” he said quietly. The man froze and just stared, and Stiles tried to swallow past the knot in his throat. Suddenly, all words evaded him. “Nevermind.”

One eyebrow raised. Stiles blushed and turned away, and shivered as the man climbed into bed behind him. Because the thing was… yeah, they slept. They also didn’t sleep. There was a closeness in the sleep and an intimacy in doing the complete opposite. But then it was over and it was gone.

Stiles didn’t know why that bothered him. Three months ago, he didn’t think it had.

He shivered when Derek’s lips ghosted over the back of his neck. The man’s warm breaths ticked his skin and caused goosebumps to race down his bare back. Derek’s arms wrapped around his chest and pulled him closer, the man’s hardening cock pressing against his ass, and Stiles closed his eyes, biting back a soft whine.

Derek nosed behind his ear and nudged his knee between Stiles’s legs, spreading them apart. The man’s hands curled against his bare chest and then the tips of claws tapped against his stomach.

Stiles glanced back as they retracted again, meeting soft green eyes. His heart skipped a beat, something new forming in his stomach. Something different; something almost painful. 

Instead of looking away, Stiles rolled over and caught the man’s lips, throwing a leg over Derek’s middle and pushing him down into the mattress. Derek’s eyes widened but he didn’t pull away. Instead, calloused hands dropped to Stiles’s waist and gripped tight, holding him steady. A low growl rumbled at the back of his throat and Stiles could’ve sworn he felt it moving through his chest.

He didn’t know what brought on the change. He didn’t know what kind of emotion pulled at his gut or why it hurt so bad. Stiles just closed his eyes, one hand grabbing a fistful of Derek’s hair, and let himself _want._

That night, he didn’t think Derek’s name had ever fallen so raw from his lips. He knew he’d have bruises in his skin from Derek’s grip the next morning and the thing was, he really didn’t care.

Or maybe he cared too much.

When Derek's cock was buried in his ass and the two hands on his waist were the only thing keeping him from collapsing forward, Stiles found it hard to stay in his own head. He thought he liked the nights like this the most. When his mind couldn't wander, when the pleasure wouldn't let him think.

 _"Derek."_ the man's name dropped from his mouth and Derek grunted, thrusting upward. Stiles's fingers dug into his shoulders and he heard the man mumble a faint apology slowing the pace down a little more. But Stiles realized that was the last thing he wanted. That was the last thing he wanted Derek to do.

Stiles could feel his heartbeat against his ribs and hear his own breathing, soft and fast. He leaned down to kiss Derek’s neck and felt the man's hands twitch; and the next thrust was harder, giving him more and making him see stars.

Stiles kissed him harder, lips becoming teeth. The man groaned and tangled a hand through Stiles's hair, holding him in place. Derek mumbled his name over and over again, until it was nothing but a forgotten moan on his lips.

Stiles's heart twisted. He forced himself out of his mind.

When he came over his own chest, he clenched his teeth so hard they gnashed, holding back any sound that came with the release.

Stiles ended up boneless on the sheets much later that night. Derek wiped a couple of tissues over his bare chest and Stiles smiled sleepily, feeling a little drunk on both adrenaline and exhaustion. The feeling in his chest was gone. The pit in his stomach had faded.

For now.

“You know you’re a little softiewolf, don't you?”

The man looked at him with a fond look in his eyes but didn’t say anything. Slowly, the smile slipped off of Stiles’s lips. The pit came back.

“Derek, is this ever gonna stop?”

The man froze. Stiles studied his face and was painfully aware of the eyes that flitted over his and then focused anywhere else. Derek’s torso stretched over him as the man set dropped the tissues onto the bedside table before pulling back. Stiles nervously wet his lips and dropped his gaze.

“Because it’s okay,” he said softly. “If it does. You know, randomly or without warning or something. I’m not expecting much. I knew what I was going into.”

Derek’s face was pale and his chest had started to rise and fall faster as Stiles glanced back up. His throat tightened and Stiles laid the palm of his hand over Derek’s bare skin, splaying his fingers out. Slowly, Derek’s movements stilled again.

“Hey,” Stiles whispered. “You with me, big-guy?”

“I’m fine.”

“Like hell you are,” Stiles said with a small snort. Derek rolled his eyes and dropped sideways, the mattress bouncing slightly from the moving weight. 

Stiles rolled toward him and studied the man’s face, nervousness creeping up his throat. They didn’t really do that; sleep face to face. It’d been seven months, Stiles had seen parts of Derek Hale his seventeen-year-old self had only dreamed about seeing, but looking at Derek in the face still seemed weird.

That made Stiles feel a little sick for some reason.

He reached out and traced his fingers over Derek’s face, outlining his eyebrows and ghosting over his cheekbones. Derek’s lips parted as Stiles dragged the pad of his thumb across his bottom lip and Stiles’s heart skipped a beat as he drew back.

"I shouldn't have asked," he mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"Stiles, please don't apologize to me."

“I just... I’d be okay you know,” Stiles said softly. “If it didn’t stop, that is.”

“Your dad might kill me.”

“I’m eighteen,” Stiles chuckled. “And my dad doesn’t want to arrest you anymore. He might do a bit of glaring and a bit of threatening, but that’d be the very worst. Probably.”

“That really isn’t very comforting, Stiles.”

“I know,” Stiles said with a smile. Derek rolled his eyes but Stiles knew there was something tugging at the edges of his lips too. 

He hoped so, at least.

“Was it?” Stiles said after a moment. “A bad idea?”

The man blinked at him. For a moment, Stiles was terrified about how he might answer. Because he didn’t think he could take it if Derek brushed him off. Or worse, if he still agreed. That this was a bad idea. That Stiles was a bad idea.

That the entire thing had been wrong from the beginning.

“Come here,” Derek said, and Stiles stared at him. Then he shifted a little closer, heartbeat picking up in his chest. Derek stopped him after a few inches and his eyes flashed red for a moment. “Stay still.”

Stiles’s breaths stalled in his throat.

Then the man all but draped his arms around Stiles’s chest and tugged him into his chest. Stiles made a muffled noise of surprise and turned his head upward, blinking at the smirk that had formed on Derek’s face. The man chuckled softly and then pressed a kiss against his forehead, tightening his hold and turning his face into Stiles’s hair. “It was never a bad idea."

“Really?”

“No. Now go to sleep, you talk too much.”

“See, there are ways to fix that—”

Derek squeezed him so hard Stiles thought he heard something pop and he let out a litany of curse words before going still. He could feel Derek’s chuckle rumbling through his chest. “I said go to sleep, Stiles.”

“Shut up, Sourwolf, I’m trying.”

“Stay still.”

“You’re messing with my head, Derek. My body doesn’t know whether to get turned or go into sleep mode when you make orders like that.”

“Tell it to go into sleep mode.”

“Oh yeah,” Stiles mumbled into his neck. “I’ll just do that. Cause my body always listens to me.”

“You’re right,” Derek said, and Stiles could hear the smirk in his voice. “I think I’m training it to only listen to me.”

“Shut up, asshole.”

“Go to sleep, Stiles’s body.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, but couldn’t smother a smile. He’d say he didn’t know how this started, he’d say he thought it was all a bad idea, and he’d say he didn’t know where this would keep going, but that would be a lie. Stiles knew— or he had hopes. Stong ones. He had feelings.

For the asshole holding him in his arms.

Stiles had feelings. He’d been the one to crawl into Derek’s bed first after all. And he didn’t regret it. He didn’t think Derek did either; not if the man’s rumbling snores were anything to go by. Stiles let himself fall asleep wrapped in Derek’s arms for the first time and he didn’t regret a thing.

Bad idea his ass.

He might’ve slept better than he had since day one.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if this counts as smut but if it does, this is my first smut! I was really going to go for it and then... I sorta did and sorta didn't. The fluff and feels came through and refused to leave. That about sums up any fic I will write ever. But I'd love to hear what you guys thought!
> 
> Come hang with me on Tumblr?
> 
> [the dumpster](https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/)


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